


Making The Scene

by bluflamingo



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/M, Multi, Post-Movie(s), Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluflamingo/pseuds/bluflamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It might not be easy, but in down-time, and the small moments, it works like it was always meant to be this way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making The Scene

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dazzledfirestar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzledfirestar/gifts).



> Amongst other things, dazzledfirestar asked for domesticity, group sex/poly relationships and exhibitionism/voyeurism. She also asked for a threesome I'd never thought of before, but lept on with glee when it came across my assignment post

Nick likes to watch.

Maria knows this. She's known it since the beginning, since her and Phil blowing off steam after an op became her and Phil and Nick (and complicated, god, did it ever get complicated).

There's nothing quite like feeling Nick's gaze on her, heavy like a hand on her bare skin while he watches from a shadowed corner of whatever room they're in.

Nick's also very specific about what he likes to watch.

Maria knows this too, which is why she's on her back, skin sticking to polished wood, bra and shirt tossed away somewhere forgotten. Phil's kneeling between her spread thighs, fingernails working up her stomach, over her ribs so she shivers and moans. 

"You like that?" Nick asks quietly.

Maria's lost track of how long she's been like this, spread out and turned on, being watched – being _seen_. Phil breathes, warm and soft against her skin.

"Yes," she says. "Yeah, I like it."

Phil cups her breasts, fingers petting at her nipples, and Nick says, "Good."

*

"You should come visit," Phil said, crystal clear despite the miles between the two of them and Maria's phone being on speaker. "It's a –"

"So help me, Phil, if you tell me it's a magical place one more time, I will..." Maria lost the _stab you myself_ at the end of that, but only because she was in her and Natasha's apartment, muffins cooling on the counter and coffee scenting the whole place. Phil was fine, Phil was going to carry on being fine, and Maria was not the kind of person who lost it over one of her oldest friends. "I'll withhold baked goods," she finished.

"It is, though." Phil went quiet long enough for Maria to wash the last of the baking trays while she waited on him, scraping burnt-on chocolate with her thumbnail and wondering why she'd let Natasha convince her they didn't need a dishwasher. "My Tahitian's getting a workout."

"You don't speak it." It was one of the reasons they'd picked Tahiti, and surrounded Phil with people who didn't speak much English. 

"I get by in French, most of the time." 

"Not this time."

"Not this time." Phil went quiet again, and Maria waited, drying her hands and watching the phone screen, like it would tell her anything. "How is everyone?" Phil asked finally, soft and just a little longing. "How's Nick?"

"Call and ask him yourself."

"I get more out of calling and asking you." Another pause, then, "Maria," right on the edge of begging.

"He's getting there," she said, trying for honesty in amongst all the leftover emotions and months old post-battle confusion. "We all are." 

"I miss you," Phil said, almost too quiet for her to pick up. "You and Nick."

"We miss you too."

*

Phil doesn't talk during sex.

Maria knows that's not strictly true – he talks, when it's just the two of them, and she doesn't know what he does with Nick, but she thinks he must talk then. The two of them have a lot to say to each other. When it's the three of them, though, Phil doesn't talk, and not just because he's doing other things with his mouth.

Phil gets her pants open and her underwear down, and Maria gasps a little, impatient and waiting and _exposed_. "Come on." She touches Phil's hair, sweat-damp against her fingers.

"She's waiting," Nick says, low. Maria knows that if she turned her head right now, she'd see that he has his pants open, his hand on his dick. He's particular about who touches him, and how, and like this, he doesn't need it from anyone.

Phil licks a line up the inside of Maria's thigh that makes her want to cry out. 

"Just like that," Nick says, satisfied. Using Phil to get Maria off. "Keep going."

*

Maria was on the bridge, the first time the renovated Helicarrier lifted away from the water and took to the sky. Everyone else was watching the view, or watching their stations, but she was watching Nick – Director Fury – as they swept away, safe again in their flying fortress. 

Hidden away, like SHIELD was always meant to be.

"Hill?" 

"All looks good from here, sir."

Fury smiled, and Maria thought that she might be the only person currently in the country who could see that he didn't entirely mean it. He was thinking of last time – they all were – and of what happened next, the lives lost and shattered and twisted into something unrecognizable. 

She checked her console again, then made her way up to where Fury was standing, looking down at his people from one level away. "Good as new, sir," she told him, hands folded neatly on the safety barrier and eyes on the crew.

Fury hummed, soft around the vibration of the engines. "Feels different."

Maria nodded once. When she tried to remember what the Helicarrier felt like, all she remembered was the jerk of the engine blowing out and the certainty that they were going to fall to a watery death.

"Phil was here, he'd have some damn metaphor for this right now," Fury said after a while. 

Maria smiled. "I'd say, 'phoenix rising from the ashes,' but we're over water."

"Too obvious." Fury drummed the safety rail, eye half-closed. "Like Captain America, rising again from what was thought to be certain death, but turned out to be just a prolonged nap."

Phil would hate that, Maria knew, and Fury would never have said it if Phil was around, but it worked. "Yes, sir."

*

Maria likes to be watched, but more than that, she likes to be touched.

It wasn't until Nick that she figured out the difference between being watched and being looked at. Being looked at makes her want to throw whoever's looking at her out of the room, tell them she's no-one's damn eye candy, in or out of uniform. Being watched makes her want to beckon that person closer, invite them to touch until they can't get closer and she's sprawled out, mostly naked, shivering down from her orgasm with Phil at her feet and Nick's eyes on her. 

"I want him to fuck me," she says, telling, not asking. Like this, Nick makes Phil's decisions for him, but the only person who decides for Maria is Maria. 

Nick sighs, pure pleasure, and Phil makes a small, wanting noise. He's still in his suit pants and shirt, might well still be wearing his shoes. When he climbs to his feet, he's mussed up and smiling, and he never looks better to Maria than just like that. 

It's unglamorous, pushing herself more solidly onto the table when her skin sticks damply and her left hip locks up for a second. She rolls her head to the side, sees Nick's hand working his cock. She'd like to get her mouth on him, but Nick likes to watch and Maria likes to be touched, and Phil doesn't talk like this, but if he did, he'd say that he likes this, too. 

This is what Maria likes, and when Phil slides slowly into her, she likes it even more.

*

The day Phil got back, Maria was stuck at home on the last day of post mission-injury leave, prevented from leaving the apartment by a combination of randomly timed check-in calls from Barton, and Natasha having taken both sets of keys.

In exchange for which, Natasha had left her a hedgehog that she'd apparently rescued during the same mission that had incapacitated Maria, but only just wrangled back from the vet. For a ball of spikes, it was pretty cute, and content to snuffle all the corners of the cardboard box it was currently living in, but – she now co-owned an animal illegal to keep as a pet in her city, gifted by a Russian assassin turned superhero. Her life had officially ceased to make sense.

_Sending you company,_ Maria's cell informed her when she checked it. Since that was from Natasha, Maria felt justified in assuming that the buzzer following it would be Barton, come to distract her in person.

It wasn't.

"Oh," she said, a little too blindsided for anything more coherent when Phil was on the other side of her door, wearing a suit and smiling, Nick behind him, close to grinning. 

"Hello, Maria," Phil said softly, and didn't reach for her, though Maria could see how he wanted to. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"No, I –" Maria gathered her wits back up. "I thought Medical would keep you overnight at least."

"Perk of sleeping with the boss and his deputy."

Nick's grin widened at Phil's words, a bright edge to it that meant he'd had more of a hand in this than just signing Phil out. 

"You coming inside? I can make coffee."

Phil made a low noise as Nick's hand settled in the base of his back. "No," Nick said, more than a hint of his Director Fury tone creeping into the words. "But you can think about letting Phil here do all the things we both know he's been wanting to the whole time he was away."

Maria quirked an eyebrow at Phil, who looked more eager than she'd ever seen him. "I can do more than think about it," she promised.

*

Maria's sprawled out in the middle of her bed, Phil dozing with his head on her stomach, Nick sitting up against the pillows, checking his SHIELD email account on her tablet, and if she listens hard enough, she can just hear the hedgehog still shuffling about in the living room. Her spine feels like it's permanently twisted out of alignment, but Natasha will be home later, and Maria knows all the tricks to getting a massage out of her roommate. Till then, she's pretty content to just enjoy the moment, since she doesn't get many of them.

Well, except for –

"Just for the record," she says, nudging Nick's knee. "Since Phil and I did all the work, you can be the one to explain to Natasha that we fucked on the kitchen table."

Nick shrugs, about as carefree as he ever is. "Worth anything she and Barton dream up as retribution," he says, and really, Maria can't argue with that.


End file.
